


Tidebreak

by Udunie



Series: Roll-A-Porn [10]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Body Dysphoria, Body Modification, Depression, Fairy Tale Retellings, Magic, Mpreg, Other, Suicidal Thoughts, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-05-21 21:13:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14922957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Udunie/pseuds/Udunie
Summary: He had always been mesmerized by the mural - by the mermaids - when he was a child. He would just sit for hours, looking at them, his chest filling with some unnamed emotion… His father used to shake his head fondly at him, telling him stories.‘Once’ he used to say, ‘one of the mermaids made a pact with the Sea Witch; her voice for a pair of legs. A world of pain, just to follow her heart, and the dashing prince who captured it.’‘Did she find it?’ Stiles would ask him, eyes wide, his little heart beating hard in his chest.‘No, no she didn’t. She turned to foam, and her soul rose to the sky to dance with the wind for eternity.’





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my next Roll-A-Porn fic, I got:  
> d4 - 1 - consensual  
> d6 - 2 - fantasy  
> d8 - 7 - creature  
> d12 - 3 - gender bender  
> d20 - 18 - small penis
> 
> And while this is a porny series, this fic has a Very Different Tone. Please read the tags and beware of dark themes!
> 
> All my love to Emma who helped me with this! <3

“What about this one, my prince?” the royal taylor asked, holding up a length of silver fabric. Stiles looked at it, then glanced at the mirror. His reflection looked back at him, pale and lanky and tired and wrong.

_ You are hideous _ , it whispered.  _ You are hideous and you will never be free _ .

Stiles swallowed, and nodded his head.

“That shall be excellent.”

***

His steward wanted to stop him afterwards - after all the measurements were taken and all the cloth picked - to talk about the arrangements for his wedding, but he waved him off. He was desperate for air. For the sky. For anything.

The great entrance hall of the castle was empty, all the servants busy. Busy, busy bugs, scurrying around to make sure all would be perfect for when his bride arrived. He felt like one too; ugly and insignificant and fragile.

The last rays of the dying sun pierced through the painted glass windows, lighting up the intricate murals on the walls, and he stopped for a second. 

Looking.

It was the castle. White and pretty, arching towards the sky with the deep, deep sea beneath, full of fish and whales and mermaids with long, flowing hair. He could almost see them move, swimming with the current. They were beautiful; graceful and elegant and...

He had always been mesmerized by the mural - by the mermaids - when he was a child. He would just sit for hours, looking at them, his chest filling with some unnamed emotion… His father used to shake his head fondly at him, telling him stories.

_ ‘Once’ _ he used to say,  _ ‘one of the mermaids made a pact with the Sea Witch; her voice for a pair of legs. A world of pain, just to follow her heart, and the dashing prince who captured it.’ _

_ ‘Did she find it?’  _ Stiles would ask him, eyes wide, his little heart beating hard in his chest. 

_ ‘No, no she didn’t. She turned to foam, and her soul rose to the sky to dance with the wind for eternity.’ _

Stiles closed his eyes, the memory of his father’s voice hurting. He was so alone. Alone and trapped. 

He ran out the doors, chasing the sun as it drowned in the sea towards the west.

***

He ended up by the cliff, the sea stretched out in the deep under him, dark and smooth and endless. Stiles sat, dangling his legs over the edge, over the big nothing between him and the bottom filled with rocks and crashing waves, watching as the sky changed colors. From blue to pink to purple.

He stretched his neck, peering down, down, down… almost wishing…

Then he turned his head, noticing something he never had before. There was a line of crude steps, cut roughly into the stone, barely distinguishable from the sheer rock. He followed their path with his eyes, down to the edge of the water. He couldn’t see what was there, it was too far, swallowed by the mist of the sea, but he knew it had to be  _ something _ . Something dangerous maybe, but something different than the castle waiting to suffocate him.

Stiles bit his lips, frowning, and then he stood, crossing to the top of the steps. They were barely wide enough to stand on with two feet, and he had to press himself against the rock as he started on them, the wind grabbing at his clothes, every step, making his heart beat double with the threat of falling.

There was a cave at the bottom, dark and mawing wide like the hungry mouth of a monster. He walked into it willingly. 

Only a few feet away from the entrance, the cave was filled with seawater. It looked deep and green and like something lit it from below where he couldn’t see, painting the cave with a shimmering, otherworldly light.

“Hello?” Stiles called, jerking as a bigger wave crashed against the mouth of the cave, splattering his back with a shock of cold. When he looked back inside, the water was filled with a huge, swirling shadow. Something big, just under the surface. Fear clawed its way up the back of his throat, like an animal, urging him to run.

He didn’t.

“Who are you?” he asked, palming at his side, but his sword was missing, left behind at the taylor, his fingers clenched on empty air.

**_Don’t you know?_ ** A voice asked, smooth and beautiful, caressing the inside of his skull.

He knew it was the creature’s voice in the water, with the absolute certainty of a dream.

**_Don’t you know who I am?_ ** she asked again, teasing. 

And he did. The seawater on his back mixing with his sweat as it slid down along his spine.

“You’re the Sea Witch.”

She laughed, her voice pushing its way between the thoughts in Stiles’ head.

**_Men remember_ ** , she said,  **_I was sure they would forget._ **

Stiles closed his eyes. The smart, reasonable part of him urging him to get out of here and never look back. To forget, as they should have.

**_What is it you want?_** The Sea Witch asked finally. **_And what is it you pay?_**

Stiles jerked, the question catching him off guard.  _ Want _ . He wanted so much. He wanted…

She was silent, but Stiles could feel her in his skull, slippery and smart.

“What… what you did. For the mermaid,” he stuttered out, his breath short with fear and excitement.

He could feel her pause. Consider.

**_You already have legs. You can already breath the air of the upland_ ** , she said.

Stiles swallowed, his throat dry enough that it hurt.

“But you... You gave her a body… the body that she wanted.”

He could feel understanding dawn on her, like a sigh against his skin.

**_I am the Sea Witch_ ** , she said,  **_my power is the sea’s, it will not hold on you_ ** **.** She sounded almost remorseful.

Stiles felt his eyes fill with tears. How could he be so stupid? To let himself believe even for a second that… He turned, he turned to run and never look back, but her voice halted him.

**_Unless_ ** , she whispered, hissing the word into his brain.  **_Unless you will join the sea_ ** **.**

Stiles stopped. The mouth of the cave only a few steps away. He could see the sky filling with stars and the waves bouncing the moonlight like it was a game. Something slick and cold wrapped around his ankle, and he was too afraid to look down.

“A mermaid?” he asked, his voice trembling. He remembered the mural. The dancing mermaids under the castle, their long hair adorned with the treasures of the sea.

**_Yes_ ** .

“Is that the price? To join the sea?” he asked, hesitant. He flinched when she laughed.

**_The sea is the reward_ ** , she said, like it was obvious, her beautiful voice smoothing his fears down. 

“Then what is the price?” he asked, swiping at his eyes. Oh, god. He shouldn’t be asking. He shouldn’t want to know.

She was silent. She was silent for long enough that Stiles was afraid she left, except his ankle was still held by her. Firm.

**_If you want to become a woman_ ** , she said carefully,  **_first I will have you be a mother._ **

The breath stuck in his chest, burning.

“I c-can’t. I can’t be a mother before I am a woman,” Stiles said, his voice trembling, his belly chuning with nerves and  _ want _ .

She chuckled.

**_You want the magic in reverse, I shall have my payment in reverse._ **

***

Stiles was careful as he folded his clothes, putting them on a rock that was mostly dry. He was stalling, he knew. He got a glimpse of her, and it filled his veins with ice.

She looked like a giant octopus, but she was black, her skin smooth and slick and her arms were many, some as thick as his thigh, others long and narrow as a finger. Their underside was a sickly white and dotted with suckers rimmed in red. She was terrifying.

**_Come_ ** , she said, like she could feel his hesitation.  **_Come to the water with me and I will give you what you want_ ** _. _

Stiles shivered. Then he remembered their deal and something in him fluttered. Something like hope. This was his only chance. To escape. To change.

He took a deep breath and walked to the edge of the glowing water, looking down at her massive body. Waiting. One of her arms broke the surface, wrapping around his leg, climbing higher and higher until it reached his soft cock, making him jerk.

**_I will be gentle_ ** , she promised, but he didn’t know if he should believe her.  **_I will be gentle, and then I will help you shed this skin you hate_ ** _. _

Stiles nodded, steeling himself. The worst thing that could happen would be if she killed him. 

He thought of sitting on the cliff far above them. 

She tugged on his leg, and Stiles finally relented, slipping into the water with a hiss. It was cold. Not as cold as he feared, but still cold enough to make his skin break out in goosebumps.

He held onto the edge, the water was deep and his feet couldn’t find the bottom of it. Immediately, her arms wrapped around him, sliding against him tighter and tighter until it was hard to fill his chest with air. Like she could understand the panic bubbling up in his chest, the Sea Witch relaxed her hold, gentled her tentacles.

**_Fear not_ ** , she whispered.  **_Give yourself to me and I will give you an advance on your reward_ ** **.**

Stiles swallowed, resting his sweaty forehead against the hard rock and slowly relaxed. It was done now, there was no turning back. He was at her mercy anyway.

She wrapped a thick arm around his chest, her suckers rubbing against him. Stiles didn’t know what to expect, and then he moaned, his back arching when they attached to him, over his nipples, pulling at his flesh and lighting him on fire. He didn’t know if he was feeling pleasure or pain, but her mind caressed his own, calming. 

Pleasure, then.

His fingers spasmed on the stone. One of her tentacles slid between his legs, the narrow end playing with his sack and then it wound around and around his cock and balls, enveloping them completely and  _ tugging _ . Stiles hissed. Too tight, the pressure too much, the pain almost eclipsing the pleasure...

She stilled then, just held his genitals in her merciless grip until his groin slowly went numb.

He panted, feeling dizzy and disoriented, barely able to keep himself afloat. His hands slipped, but she held his head above the water, caressing his face with one of her arms.

**_Almost, little mother_ ** , she said, her voice smiling and Stiles felt himself relax again. 

Yes.  _ Please _ .

She hummed in his thoughts and then he felt her move, something… something that felt warmer than any other part of her pushed between his asscheeks, prodding. Stiles gulped in air and closed his eyes. 

The thing was gentle, the tapered point slick with something more than seawater and when it entered him, Stiles gasped. It grew thick quickly as it pushed deeper and deeper into him, rubbing against his insides, sending small bolts of pleasure up along his spine. He thought she could feel it too, because she pulled back and then pushed in and in and in again until he was trembling with it. There was heat gathering under his navel, a ball of tension that had his toes curling.

She fucked him slowly and relentlessly until Stiles was moaning, the sound of his voice filling the cave, echoing from the walls around them, like they were mocking him for the pleasure building under his skin.

And build it did, like the tide growing and pushing against his insides until it was too much. Stiles’ breath hitched. He’d never… He’d never felt like this. He didn’t come with his cock - that part of him still numb and unresponsive - no, this was more, an intense wave of pleasure filling his whole body. It made him go limp in its wake, and the Sea Witch chuckled in his head. Her member stilled inside him, pulsing with heat, filling him up.

**_That’s it, little mother_ ** , she said. When she was done, her arms slowly, carefully lifted Stiles from the water, cradling him and laying him down on the dry rock. They didn’t disappear though; her tentacles kept petting him, gentling the shivers of his body.

When Stiles was finally able to turn his head he could see her, peering over the edge, her large, red eyes watching him. 

**_It is done_ ** , she whispered.  **_You have to carry my children until the moon is full and the tides are high. Then you have to return to me_ ** **.**

Stiles nodded weakly. 

**_That is not all_ ** _ ,  _ the Sea Witch continued.  **_You will be hungry. You will be hungry, but you can only eat what the sea gives, little mother, otherwise my magic will be undone_ ** **.**

Stiles swallowed and closed his eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

The castle was in upheaval by the time he could make his way back, shivering in his damp clothes. The bells were crying midnight, the guards calling for him, turning every stone in their desperation.

His steward was furious and worried in equal measures, and for a second, Stiles imagined telling him. Not the truth - the truth was too much to bear, he knew, he bore it for two decades - but that he was leaving. Soon. He was leaving and he was never coming back and they would be... He looked at all the faces, felt the relief rolling off every person as they heard of his safe return, and felt regret lick up his spine. 

But then they called his name, and told him ‘ _ my prince, I’m so glad to see you _ ’ and he closed his eyes and he went to his room, and he locked the doors behind himself.

The wrong title. The wrong name,  _ always  _ the wrong name.

***

He woke groggy in the morning. His eyes crusted with tears he couldn’t remember shedding, his head filled with the echo of whispered thoughts that weren’t his own.

He woke hungry.

He was served eggs and ham and orange juice, and the smell of them set his belly rolling hard enough to make him double over, making the servants rush to him. Stiles jerked out of their hold. Assured them it was just a cold. He slipped into the sea last night, that was all. 

That was all.

He ordered water. And he ordered smoked salmon, a plate of it.

Then he sat by the window, eyes searching the sea, waiting, a hand resting on his stomach without him noticing until they returned.

The salmon was pink and marbled and his mouth watered just looking at it. His belly churned, not with revulsion, but with  _ need  _ and he fell on it like he’d been starving. And then his plate was empty and his glass was dry, and he was still, still so hungry.

***

He told his steward that he was sick, didn’t let the poor man even enter his rooms. 

“But the court,” he said, “But the preparations!”

Stiles sent him away, his voice as cold and harsh as the sea when the winter winds whip the waves high.

The man had to learn, anyway. He had to get used to it. Because Stiles was leaving. Soon.

***

At noon, he finally dressed, tearing himself away from the window where he could hear the sound of the sea. It was so close, he felt like it was calling to him in a voice so familiar it hurt his heart.

It was then that he noticed. Stiles never spent much time in front of the mirror - always, always mocking - he merely glanced, quick and fleeting. But this time, this time he stared. There were two circles of bruises around his chest, purple and angry. He remembered. He remembered the embrace of the Sea Witch, the hunger of her suckers as they pulled at his flesh.

His chest was swollen, his breasts were not the flat, ugly slabs of meat he was so used to seeing. Stiles raised a shaking hand, tracing the small mounds, shivering at how sensitive they felt.

_ An advance _ , he thought. He was trembling as he looked down, lower, to the part of himself he liked to ignore. His cock was smaller. There were angry welts at the base of it, where it had been held too tight, but he didn’t think he imagined that it was shrunken. 

His heart was beating furiously, urged on by a mixture of fear and excitement and hope, he smoothed his hand down his body, stopping before reaching it, palm resting on his belly. His stomach felt tight and hard. It didn’t look any different, but he could feel the weight of life inside; the children of the Sea Witch, growing and hungry for the fruits of their home.

Stiles ordered caviar to bide his time until luncheon.

***

_ ‘If you drink too much,’ _ his mother used to joke when Stiles was a child,  _ ‘A frog will grow in your stomach.’ _

Stiles had been drinking. Ordering jugs and jugs full of water, bemoaning the heat as an excuse, despite the slight chill that swept over the land… He wasn’t sure his servants believed him, but he only needed them to cooperate for a little more. Soon. Soon he would be free.

He ate shellfish and lobster, sardines and tuna. Anything to quell the hunger that was constantly gnawing at him. He drank and he ate and he grew.

It was hard to hide it. Stiles took to loose shirts and flowing mantels to soften the contours of his body.

His body was changing. It was changing in ways hard to understand, but still. The mirror became a friend again. An enemy turned lover. Every night, after the castle folk retired he would stand in front of it by the light of candles, just looking.

His belly grew a lovely, tight bump. Sometimes, when he lay in bed, just before he fell asleep, he could almost feel the children inside. The children of the Sea Witch, nestled in him. 

His chest changed too. Slowly, his bruises were disappearing, melting into his skin, but the swell of his breasts remained. As did the slow devolving of his… manhood. It was getting a bit smaller every day. 

It made Stiles afraid. 

It also made him wish it would be gone sooner. Today.  _ Yesterday _ . He had been trapped for too long, and now that he knew it would be over soon every second left of his captivity felt a year.

When he closed his eyes he could hear the sea whispering to him. Calling. Singing strange songs that were beautiful and terrifying. The sea sang of the depth, of the cold embrace of the waves, of monsters and shipwrecks and the freedom of the endless.

It made Stiles feel like crying with terror and with  _ want _ .

***

Stiles watched the moon every night, tracking its slow path across the sky, hesitantly navigating the darkness between the stars like a ship lost at sea. It was filling, slow and unstoppable. Just like him.

Three days, if that, and the moon would be full. That was all he had in this life he could never quite live to the fullest. 

He didn’t know how to feel. Every time he looked into the mirror he looked just a little bit more like how he should have from the beginning. Every time he bit into a piece of sea food he could taste the future. Free and waiting and almost in his grasp.

The belongings of his betrothed arrived a day before; crates and chests full of jewelry and clothes - beautiful, soft, elegant things. He’d just stood there, biting the inside of his mouth until it was bleeding as he watched the servants unpack. He wanted them. He wanted the sapphire earrings, the pearly, fishbone corset, the skirts of silk and velvet. 

“My prince,” his steward said, walking up to him, careful and calculating. He’d noticed. He knew Stiles was hiding something, that he was snappish and uncaring and not like himself at all.

“Yes?” he asked, pulling his robe closer around himself. To hide.

“Good news,” the man said, and just from his tone, Stiles knew it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. “The princess’ ship has left the harbor, she should be here by the morrow, if the winds are kind. The council decided to bring the wedding forward, to ease the mind of the realm.”

Stiles just sat there, a thousand words rising in his throat like bile. And he looked at his steward and he swallowed them back. They knew. They knew he was planning something, that something was amiss, and they were trying… trying to trap him. They were trying to wound their sticky arms around him harder, before he could slip out from between them.

“That shall be excellent,” he said instead, waving him off with a hand he barely managed to keep steady.

***

That night, he sat by his window again, his heart beating fast like a bird’s when held too tight in a careless hand.

Trapped. Trapped. Trapped again.

Stiles closed his eyes, unable to look at the moon anymore. So promisingly full, almost… almost there.

_ If you can hear this _ , he thought,  _ help me. I beg you, Sea Witch. _

***

The dawn came without the rise of the sun. It came with storm clouds painted black and red as blood, it came with rain and hail and winds that tore trees from the ground and fell houses.

The servants boarded the windows of his chamber to keep the elements out, but Stiles still sat by them, listening to the rain and ice drumming against the wooden planks, demanding. He could almost hear the Sea Witch’s voice calling for him.

He closed his eyes and tried not to think of the princess and her men and their ship out there, a hand resting on his squirming belly.

***

His betrothed did not arrive that day. And not the next one either.

_ I did this _ , Stiles thought,  _ I called this upon us _ . 

The storm did not ease, and so he sat in his dark room, trying to remember what the sky looked like. A maid brought a plate of fruit. Shiny grapes, perfect, red apples. Stiles could barely look at them, but still, he picked an apple, the skin unblemished, the flesh hard. Even touching it felt repulsive, but he persisted, turning it in his hand this way and that, forcing himself to look.

The apple rested in his palm, heavy and cool. He could recall the taste. The texture, the sound of it crunching under his teeth.

Tonight. The moon was full tonight, he could feel it.

He pressed his fingers into the apple, braking the skin with the nail of his thumb. The Sea Witch told him that one bite would undo all her magic. Break her hold.

What then? Was he trapped again? Was he imprisoned by the sweet promise of a future just as much as he was by his life here? 

He thought of the princess’ dress, lined with golden thread and adorned with pearls and beads and sapphires. A dress she will never wear. Would she be waiting for him in the sea? Would she haunt him there, her pale ghost shivering in the light of the moon breaking through the waves?

Could he ever be free?

The door opened, startling him. The apple fell from his hand, rolling to the middle of the room and farther until his steward snatched it up.

“My prince,” he said, the lines of worry on his face eased a bit. “Good news.”

Stiles wasn’t sure he still believed in those.

“The princess is unharmed. Her fleet was forced back to the harbor, but other than a few torn sails they’ve made it safely. They will depart again when this wicked weather calms.”

“That is excellent,” Stiles said, letting out a breath he’d been holding since the storm broke on the horizon. The steward smiled. He pressed the apple back into his hand before he left.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All my love to Emma, who kept me going and returning to this <3

When his dinner came, Stiles saw that there were guards in front of his doors. That had never happened before, and he knew immediately what it meant. A trap. A trap, a trap, a trap…

He smiled at the maids, his fingers clawed into the hem of his shirt, watching them as they left, his guards closing the doors behind them with a heavy thud that echoed in his chest.

The storm was still raging, and even though he couldn’t see the moon, he still felt the call in his veins, in the squirming of the children inside him. It was time and he was  _ trapped  _ again.

Stiles walked the length of his room. Then he walked it again, circling the chamber over and over like an animal caged too long. 

A gust of wind rattled the thick wooden planks on the windows and he stared at it, startled by the ferocity. The sea was screaming. It was screaming for him.

Stiles dove for his desk, swiping his unfinished correspondence to the floor as he grabbed his silver letter opener. The glint of the royal crest etched into the handle was accusing in the candle light but he ignored it, attacking the boards, prying the nails out one by one even as his fingers started to bleed.

The planks fell to the floor just as lightning struck, the mighty roar of the thunder masking the sound of his work and Stiles smiled, sharp. The wind was howling, whipping water inside his room, and soaking him to the bone in the blink of an eye. He shuddered, licking his lips, swallowing hungrily as he tasted salt.

He looked out, towards the sea. The landscape was lit with flashes of lighting from one edge of the horizon to the other, reflecting on the water, distorted by the waves that looked like hulking monsters ready to eat the land and all who stood on it.

“I’m trapped!” Stiles shouted over the sound of thunder, unafraid of being overheard with the taste of salt still fresh on his tongue. “Help me!”

He closed his eyes and listened, waiting, hoping,  _ believing  _ that the Sea Witch would hear him, that she would answer him again.

Stiles waited a long time, waited until his fingers started aching from the cold as he held on to the hard stone of the window sill, dripping blood down the walls. 

Then he felt it, a distant, weak tendril of  _ something  _ caressing his mind. 

He thought of the guards outside his room. Thought of the many more who must be stationed at the exits, trying to tell her what was wrong without words.

**_I see_ ** , she whispered, so quiet it seemed impossible to hear, but still crystal clear in his head. He could feel her considering, could feel her consciousness sliding up against his, assessing him, testing.

**_I shall let you borrow this voice_ ** , she said then, after what felt like an eternity.  **_But you must not delay, little mother._ **

Stiles frowned in confusion and then a second later he fell to the floor, clawing at his throat as a searing pain blossomed there, making him choke on empty air. He coughed, panicking even as it ebbed away. 

When he wiped his mouth, the back of his hand came away smeared with blood.

Stiles panted, his eyes watering, his tears splattering against the cold, unforgiving floors of his chambers. When he could finally breathe again he stood, somehow fortified by the tang of copper and salt filling his mouth as he went to the door.

He closed his eyes, listening to the storm behind him. There was rage there, an angry, impatient demand that he couldn’t resist. That he didn’t want to resist. But under the rage he heard the beat of the thunder, could feel it in his bones, the crash of the waves against the rocks, the groan of old trees in the wind. A melody.

Stiles closed his eyes and started to sing, he sang the song of the sea in the voice of the Sea Witch and he opened the door towards the future.

***

The stairs leading down from the castle doors were slick with water, shining, bouncing the glow of lightning around him and finally the song died on his lips, leaving the people asleep where they stood, unable to stop him.

He knew his freedom lay ahead, at the cliff. It was dark and treacherous and calling to him.

A tree fell by the path just as he passed it, the huge oak finally surrendering to the elements. He watched it happen, watched the wind tear it out of the ground, heard the roots snapping, the branches groaning in agony. His heart was beating fast.

Stiles put a hand on his belly, feeling the life nestled in him stir once again.

His clothes ripped from the wind, the tender, luxurious silk coming apart at the seams, whipped away by the gale that was biting at his flesh.

Stiles didn’t stop. He was told not to delay, and he would not delay. Not when he was so close to the end, one way or the other.

There was an eerie quiet by the sea, just where he knew the hidden steps to be carved into the sheer rock. It felt like an invitation, like something was trying to tell him he was safe here. That he was welcomed.  _ Invited _ .

He descended slowly one hand anchored on the rough stone, the other cradling his belly protectively. His feet hurt. He left is boots in his rooms, not wanting to take anything with him from that wretched, nightmare of a life behind him. Stiles wondered, for a moment as he stopped to catch his breath if they would find his footprints, bloody and stark against the steps, or if the storm would wash those away too, make them disappear into the sea just like he would.

The mouth of the cave was gaping darkly at him, and he hesitated, for only a second. The children of the Sea Witch churned in his belly, wanting to be born. His feet hurt. His throat hurt. His heart hurt.

But he knew it would hurt more if he stayed. It would waste away, crumble into ash or turn into sea foam if he had to continue living his life of lies.

Stiles stepped inside.

The Sea Witch was already waiting, her tentacles covering the ground, grabbing at his feet as soon as he was close enough, pulling him towards the water with manic urgency. Stiles went with her, stumbling along, slipping on the edge of her pond and falling.

No sooner did he hit the water and one of her arms wrapped around his head, forcing his mouth open and sliding into his throat, thick and cold and horrible. Stiles couldn’t breath and his panic rose as he clawed at her blindly, choking.

Just as his strength was starting to leave him, she retreated, pulling back her slippery tentacle and letting him breach the surface, gasping for air.

**_Finally_ ** , she said triumphantly in his head, her voice sweet and beautiful and finally back in her possession.

Stiles coughed.

She cradled him in her many arms, carefully of his bulging stomach even as she tore the remnants of his clothes away. He could do nothing but hold on, trying to keep his head above the water, still dizzy and disoriented.

**_You have become beautiful, little mother_ ** , she said, her tentacles sliding over his skin, mapping out his body; the width of his hips, the swell of his breasts, making him moan.

**_But you are not finished yet… Are you ready to pay my price?_ **

Stiles swallowed, the salt burning his throat.

“Yes,” he said, voice rough, like pebbles on the shore grinding together.

She laughed into his head, bright and ringing like the chime of small bells. 

**_Good_ ** , she said.  **_Very good, little mother._ **

She moved then, slow and careful as her tentacles closed in on him, one of them sliding between his asscheeks, prodding at his hole and making the breath stuck in his chest. Stiles gasped and it slid inside, gentle but relentless.

Like they could feel the closeness of their mother, the children in him fluttered, moving under his skin. Stiles hissed, the pressure making his vision go gray.

**_Hush, little mother, just a little more_ ** , she said, her tentacle moving in him, stretching him.

Stiles closed his eyes, fingers digging into the edge of the rock. It didn’t hurt. Not exactly. Not yet. But he knew it was coming. The price had to paid.

When she pulled her arm back his hole was gaping, all his strength gone, and already, he could feel one of the children moving down. It felt enormous. 

Instinctively he tried to stop it, he tried to clench down, fueled by fear, but the Sea Witch was ready. Her arms tightened around him, around his belly too, squeezing him painfully.

**_Do not resist now... you can’t._ **

Stiles moaned. The child was right there, straining against him, and even with the preparation, he had to clench his teeth against the sensation of it sliding out into the cold, cold water.

The Sea Witch cooed into his ear and then braided her arms even tighter against him. 

**_Yes! Very good my little mother, just twelve more to go._ **

***

Stiles had lost count. Had lost all sense of himself, his world shrinking to the pinpoint of pushing the Sea Witch’s children into the world. His body felt numb, and he didn’t know if it was because of the exhaustion or because she was holding his body so tight now, so tight that he could barely breathe, every gasp of air hurting his chest.

**_One more,_ ** she said. She stayed silent for so long, that Stiles had almost forgotten her voice. But not really. It was not a thing a human could  _ really  _ forget.

She squeezed him impossibly tight and he screamed as he felt his bones cracking.

And then it was done.

For a second he just panted, the cool air of the cave felt like knives in his lungs.

**_You did well, little mother_ ** , the Sea Witch told him,  **_And now you shall be rewarded._ **

Before he could react, she pulled him under the water, fast and merciless. Stiles tried to fight her, lashing out, but she quickly subdued him, trapping his arms by his body and enveloping him in her arms until Stiles could feel her on every inch of his skin, her suckers biting at his flesh, her tentacles squeezing the last bubbles of air from his chest.

The world went dark around him, everything was pain, everything was tearing skin and bones breaking.

He was sure it was the end, that he would die here, in her cave, tricked and trapped and betrayed. 

His head felt like he was floating.

No. 

No, he was floating.

With great effort, Stiles opened his eyes. He was drifting gently down in the water, falling in slow motion. There were luminescence flowers growing on the walls of the little pond, filling his vision with eerie light. He could see the Sea Witch, far up above him, a dark, swirling shadow with her children swimming around her.

Stiles didn’t understand how he was still alive.

The bottom of the lake was lined with soft, white sand that drifted up like smoke when his body landed. 

Stiles just lay there, he felt heavy.

**_Start moving, little mother,_ ** the Sea Witch told him.  **_You will have to keep moving to stay alive._ **

Stiles frowned. He didn’t understand what that meant, but he could feel the truth of it. He was already feeling dizzy laying there, motionless on his back.

Slowly he raised his arms. They looked different. Less hair. Less veins, his forearms less bulky and roped with muscles.

Stiles felt his eyes widen, his soul trembling in his chest. He pushed himself up, trying to see. Trying to…

Her body was beautiful. Her shoulders were narrower, her breasts full and round. She looked down on herself,  tried to take it all in; her slim waist, the shape of her hips… And below that…

She looked nothing like the murals did. Her tail was not one of those flowery, jewel colored things. It was long, thin, and brown with saddle shaped marks, dark spots and long, vertical fins.

Stiles moved it, learning the use of her new body, and it obeyed her, propelling her up in the water smooth and fast. As soon as she was in motion her head cleared, and only then did she notice the rows of gills above her collar bones. 

She looked nothing like the elegant, pretty mermaids on the murals did, but she didn’t care. She was strong and free and she was  _ herself _ .

There was an opening at the bottom of the lake, narrow and dark. She looked up, one last time, at the Sea Witch and thought  _ Thank you.  _

Then she swam through it, into the sea. 

Into the future, bright and wild and  _ hers _ .

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment if you liked it!
> 
> You can find me at udunie.tumblr.com


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